


Friends? I'd Say Family

by mockturtletale



Series: Friends? I'd Say Family [1]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockturtletale/pseuds/mockturtletale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s maybe four or five, Mike would guess, and his hair is kind of long, side-swept but perfectly cut bangs that are almost falling into his eyes and his thick, dark hair just starting to curl below his ears. He is staring right back at Mike and his eyes are huge, but somehow don’t look out of place with his features, tiny button nose that is the cutest thing Mike has ever seen and a perpetually amused little smirk that is clearly a Specter trait. It’s far more endearing on a five year old. The kid speaks and Mike is mesmerised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends? I'd Say Family

  
**Notes** : Written for [this prompt](http://suitsmeme.livejournal.com/2038.html?thread=1643254#t1643254) in the [Suits Kink Meme](http://suitsmeme.livejournal.com/): Thank you to the OP for the fantastic prompt! ♥ Features references from the tv show Friday Night Lights. Wholly and always for my bff Taelor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
“.... Remind me to have Donna give you a key.”

  
“Do you have the trades?”

  
Mike produces the all important napkin and presents it to Harvey with a flourish, but before he can add the necessary “ta-da!” a thunderous crash from somewhere behind Harvey and to his right catches their attention.

Harvey’s eyes go wide and then he disappears back inside, leaving the door open for Mike to peer around and then step through to double check because surely he can’t really be seeing what he thought he saw.

But the sight remains the same and Mike very quickly tries to calculate just how much he’s had to drink tonight because Harvey is standing in the middle of his very spacious, very expensive looking kitchen helping what appears to be a small child clad in Charizard pyjamas down from where he seems to have pushed a chair up against the island to clamber on top and subsequently knock down a stack of saucepans, the lids of which are still spinning against the tiled floor.

  
“I just wanted a glass of water!” The child is indignant.

  
“Nice try, buddy. The glasses aren’t kept there. One more chance to confess and I’ll consider a lenient sentence, but keep holding out on me and I _will_ cancel your play-date with Donna tomorrow.” Harvey is down on one knee, talking to the little boy more or less the same way he speaks to Mike and the sight sobers him immediately. When he leans against the door the creak it makes sees both Harvey and the kid turn their heads in unison in his direction, and the way they tilt their faces slightly and narrow their eyes at him, as if more bothered by his interruption than his presence in general, the way their hair is the exact same shade of rich brown and matched by the dark pooling umber irises of their eyes …...

  
“Mike, this is Garrison, my son. Garrison - Mike.”

  
And that’s .. the door creaks again under the full force of Mike’s weight.

Harvey picks the little boy up and seats him at the island in the centre of the kitchen, pulling out the chair across from him and motioning for Mike to sit.

  
“Let me get you _both_ a glass of water.”

  
He turns around and busies himself at the sink and Mike knows he’s staring but he can’t help it. The kid - _Garrison_ \- is …. he’s adorable. He’s maybe four or five, Mike would guess, and his hair is kind of long, side-swept but perfectly cut bangs that are almost falling into his eyes and his thick, dark hair just starting to curl below his ears. He is staring right back at Mike and his eyes are huge, but somehow don’t look out of place with his features, tiny button nose that is the cutest thing Mike has ever seen and a perpetually amused little smirk that is clearly a Specter trait. It’s far more endearing on a five year old. The kid speaks and Mike is mesmerised.

  
“So you’re Mike. Daddy says you’re exasperating.” Except he has a _lisp_ and pronounces it ‘egzathberating’. It’s so precious, Mike can barely stand it. But he’s drawn out of his reverie by Harvey sitting down between them and sliding glasses of water to each end of the tabletop.

  
“You’re both exasperating. Didn’t I put you to bed two hours ago, kiddo?” And Mike wants to spend the next week of his life watching exchanges between the two, he can’t believe this is happening.

  
“Couldn’t sleep. Season four,” is all Garrison says, and it must make sense to Harvey because he looks sympathetic now, which is not an expression Mike’s sure he’s ever seen on him before.

  
“Okay. Here’s the deal - I let you watch the first episode of season five and you do your very very best to sleep in in the morning. You in?” And Garrison nods happily, sipping at his glass of water until it’s less than half full and he can clutch it in both hands as he clambers down from the island.

  
“Goodnight Mike,” he calls as he pads off down a hallway to the left and when Mike eventually finds his voice he manages a “‘Night … Garrison”. Because it’s polite to say goodnight. To Harvey’s kid. Harvey’s KID. Harvey’s son. Garrison. Apparently. And what!?

  
“I’ll be right back and yes, before you ask, I will answer your questions. Grab some blankets from that cupboard by the door, you can sleep on the couch tonight,” Harvey says before following Garrison.

  
Mike’s head is still spinning as he almost gets buried alive under an avalanche of duvets and his focus doesn’t improve when he drops down onto the couch, so he figures it’s not even the alcohol anymore, just this situation and its sheer mind boggling qualities. If he hadn’t seen them together with his own eyes, he wouldn’t believe a single soul who tried to tell him that Harvey Specter - his fearless leader - had a son. But here he is and here they are. He can’t even begin to imagine what Harvey has to say.

Mike’s still thinking through a thousand equally unlikely and increasingly impossible explanations when Harvey sinks down into the armchair next to the couch, sighing.

  
“You get three questions, rookie. Choose wisely.”

  
Mike doesn’t have to think. Some background cog of his brain has been compiling and prioritizing questions in order of importance and likelihood to garner answers without incurring Harvey’s wrath since Harvey said “This is my son”.

  
“Garrison’s mother?” Harvey looks oddly relieved.

  
“Scotty - Dana Scott. She was my best friend and biggest rival in college. Still a worthy legal adversary. Brilliant, driven, impossibly stubborn. We called a truce when Garrison was conceived but he wasn’t planned. He knows who Scotty is but they don’t see one another, the arrangement is working well for everyone concerned so far.”

  
“She didn’t want to be in his life?” Mike hadn’t intended to ask that next, but he hadn’t been banking on needing to, so.

  
“She … she’s ambitious. Children never factored into her plans and by the time the prospect became a reality she felt she had achieved too much to stop or slow down.”

  
And that seems understandable to Mike, now. Before he found himself in this profession, it probably wouldn’t have. But lawyers seem to approach the priority they assign their projected career paths with a kind of single-minded commitment the likes of which Mike has never seen before. Especially the really, really good ones. And if Harvey liked this woman enough to have had a lasting and at least partially positive relationship with her, Mike can only conclude that she’s very good at what she does.

  
“One more question. Choose carefully.”

  
Mike doesn’t have to think about this one.

  
“Why didn’t you tell me?”

  
Harvey frowns and looks away. When he speaks, it’s hesitant and Mike wonders if he’s crossed a line.

  
“Let me make something very clear. I’m not ashamed of Garrison. He’s never been a secret.”

  
Mike tries to interrupt, to insist that he never meant to suggest -

  
“I know you didn’t mean to suggest otherwise, I just .. have to stress the point sometimes. For my own sake as much as others’. There never seems to be a right time to say ‘By the way, I have a son’. By and large it’s not relevant. But eventually, I would have told you. Donna knows, Jessica of course knows. Even Louis unfortunately happened to bump into us one day in Central Park. But I do tell the people that … I feel should know.”

  
Mike doesn’t really know how to take that. He … he is accustomed to being an important person in the lives of those he cares for. Harvey, as his boss, presents a difficult niche for him to fit and it’s a struggle to keep from overstepping boundaries, even just in terms of how he thinks of their relationship. Mike isn’t very good at spending a lot of time with people without finding himself invested in them.

  
“Are you .. do you wish I hadn’t found out?” And Harvey looks up at him then.

  
“I wish you hadn’t found out like this, that’s all. I would have explained it better under different circumstances, I think.”

  
Mike thinks that’s an acceptable state of affairs for them to work with.

  
“Get some sleep, kid. Garrison’s going to have us up at the crack of dawn.”

  
And something about the sentence, Harvey’s use of the word ‘us’ maybe, soothes the bristling spread of his thoughts. He takes off his shoes and jacket and settles in under the duvet he spreads across the couch, which is probably more comfortable and certainly more spacious than his own bed.

  
“See you in the morning.” Harvey says, switching out the lights as he leaves.

  
It sounds like reassurance.

 

 

___________________________________________

 

 

 

Mike wakes up blinking into dull early morning light and it takes him a second to figure out where he is, but the scratchy fabric of the shirt and pants he’s still wearing and the grandiose setting go a long way toward jogging his memory. He pushes the duvet down and stretches out across the cushions, yawning. Judging by the shade of the sky, it’s really early. Why is he _awake_?

He turns over to grab his phone off the coffee table and the noise he makes is one he wasn’t aware he or any other human being was capable of when he sees Garrison sitting Indian style beside his phone, chin propped up on one hand while he regards Mike with unguarded interest. Mike can only assume he had been previously watching his sleeping form in the same manner. It’s incredibly creepy.

It remains creepy when he doesn’t say anything.

  
“Ummm … is everything okay? Do you need something? Where’s H- uh, your .. dad.”

  
Garrison squints at him, eyes narrowing and little nose wrinkling.

  
“Vague, vague again, he’s sleeping. Obviously.”

  
Mike feels like he’s being scolded by a pocket sized cantankerous judge. One that he very badly needs to impress, because there’s far more than just a law suit at stake here.

  
“Would you like some breakfast?” He chances, and Garrison considers the prospect very seriously.

  
“.... I’ll allow it.” Seriously, how old is this kid really and does he speak solely in courtroom lingo?

  
They wander off into the kitchen together, and by the time Harvey finds them there fifty five minutes later Mike has discovered the following:

-Garrison is five years, one month and fifteen days old.

-His favorite tv show (and presumably the one he'd been referring to last night) is Friday Night Lights, which is apparently centred around a Texas high school football team and Harvey bought him the entire show on blu-ray even though he “doesn’t understand or encourage” any of the sports metaphors Garrison finds “useful and applicable to real life situations”.

-Garrison doesn’t like toast. He finds the texture of it “unsettling”.

-He does, however, prioritize the shape of his breakfast edibles.

Mike gets his first real grin when he slides Garrison a plate of fried eggs and bacon arranged to form a manically smiling face, and even after the epic battle Mike had had to wage on Harvey’s kitchen appliances to produce such a work of culinary art, the toothy smile is reward enough.

When Harvey shuffles (actually _shuffles_ , dragging his feet sleepily) in he interrupts them mid-conversation as they discuss the pros and cons of natural orange juice over coffee and said orange juice. They both agree it’s the healthier option, but Mike brings up the sweet sweet sugary goodness of artificial flavoring and Garrison brings the debate home with the scathing and irrefutable final argument that the sensation of the pulp pieces getting stuck to your teeth is “plain gross”. Mike is laughing, thrilled to finally hear the kid say a word that doesn’t make him sound thirty years older than he is, and Harvey squints blearily at the look of proud accomplishment on Garrison’s face.

  
“Bwluh?” Or at least that’s what it sounds like he asks.

  
Mike and Garrison both laugh at him then, smug in their wide-eyed ‘we’ve been awake for an hour’ alertness. Harvey just shakes his head and comes over to stand beside Mike, where he makes grabby hands for his coffee. Mike’s laughter takes on an edge of hysteria.

Harvey is standing close, too close, all sleep-warm and loose against Mike’s side. He’s wearing a baseball style tshirt with sleeves that stop halfway down his forearms and loose pyjama bottoms without socks, and Mike can see his wrists and his feet and his _collarbones_ and he’s standing slumped into the counter-top, correct posture be damned, and his hair …. Mike can see where Harvey has clearly pushed it haphazardly away from his face, because it’s standing in ruffled tufts, no hair gel at all.

Mike tightens his hands around his coffee mug and laughs into it to avoid looking anywhere else. He pushes Harvey’s hands away and turns to get him a fresh cup, pointedly ignoring the fact that his boss is _pouting_ at him.

He hands the cup to Harvey as soon as it’s full, and ignores the way his stomach tightens when their fingers overlap around the warm ceramic. Harvey doesn’t even look at him, still clearly half asleep as he flops down into a chair next to Garrison and pillows his head on his arms once he’s poured half the sugar bowl and a quart of hazelnut creamer into his coffee and gulped down as much of it as he can in one long swallow. Mike is slightly worried to find, when he goes to refill it along with his own, that that is apparently close to three quarters of the cup. He’s never seen Harvey so …. unguarded. He’s worked with this man so closely for months now, and he didn’t know until today that he was capable of being this .. human. Mike can’t believe he’s allowed to see him like this. He also can’t believe he takes hazelnut creamer in his coffee, and says so.

  
“Shut UP, it is too early for your odd fixation on irrelevant details. How long have you two been awake!? Is that … did you make Garrison breakfast?” He lifts his head to look at Garrison.

  
“And you’re actually eating it?”

  
Garrison grins around a very visible mouthful of egg and Harvey groans. Mike reaches across the table to meet Garrison’s fist bump halfway and Harvey drops his head back down onto the island with an audible thunk.

  
“Five minutes in the same room and you’re already leading my child astray. Fantastic. Where’s my cooked breakfast, Mother Hubbard?” And he doesn’t sound serious, but when Mike places the plate that had been warming in the bottom of the oven in front of him and lets the cuttlery clatter down next to it, he raises his head just enough for his eyes to be visible over his crossed forearms, chin still resting on the countertop.

  
“I love you.” Harvey says very seriously, muffled into the fabric of his sleeves but lodging sharp somewhere under Mike’s ribs.

Garrison giggles.

  
“Can we keep him, Dad?”

  
“No pets till you’re six, Chief. You know the rules.”

  
And they smile matching crinkly eyed, sleep soft grins at each other while Mike tries to remember how to breathe.

They eat in relative silence and Mike feels out of place, like an intruder even though they do nothing to make him feel that way. Harvey reminds him of the deposition they’ve got this morning and Garrison asks him what his favorite water Pokemon is and Mike feels inexplicably at ease with both of them and their lines of questioning, just unsure about where (and if) he fits between the two.

It’s an odd thing to find himself considering.

But his head is a warring shift of ‘Harvey Specter - Boss’ and ‘Harvey - Dad’ and ‘Harvey - _Harvey_ ’, not to mention ‘Garrison - Harvey’s son’ and ‘Garrison - Officially Awesome, Mildly Terrifying Kid’. Ever since he met Harvey he’s been trying to find the right, corresponding title for himself in their interactions and now he wonders whether Garrison is going to add two brand new roles for him to try and fit, to fill, or if they can maybe make do with one.

  
“Okay, time to get ready. Your uniform is hanging inside your closet, Garrison. Go grab it. Mike, I have some suits from when I was a malnourished associate, they’re horribly outdated but clearly still far superior to anything you own. This way.” And Harvey herds Mike out of the kitchen and holds Garrison’s hand until he heads off into a bedroom that looks to be entirely decorated in dinosaur skeleton murals, if the glimpse Mike catches before Harvey snaps his fingers in front of his face is to be believed.

  
“Do you have everything you need for the office today? And I don’t think I need to say it but just in case - it was not okay that you came here drunk last night. Don’t do it again.” Mike can see him start to shut down, suit up before they even reach his bedroom and regardless of all the wide expanses of tanned skin Mike can still see wherever his clothes end and don’t quite meet. He’s right, of course he is. And Mike would never have come in the state he was in last night if he’d known Garrison was here. But Harvey rattles the warning off, doesn’t sharpen it to sting and he nods at Mike when he’s finished speaking like he already knows Mike wouldn’t, won’t and Mike just nods back, the somber moment in such a lovely morning unwanted but necessary and understood.

And then they arrive at the end of the hallway and Harvey pushes the door open to let Mike pass in front of him into his bedroom, slowly filling up with golden morning sunlight, spilling over across the unmade bed and dripping into the creased shadows of the sheets. He stands for a second, a little winded by the sight, by the tide of light that spreads instant soft heat along his skin. When Harvey wraps his hand around Mike’s wrist and starts to pull him toward the other side of the room the pads of his fingers and the heat of his palm burn Mike to the bone.

  
“As my new official house sitter you’ll get an equally ludicrous guestroom, don’t worry.”

  
And Mike lets Harvey keep that, can’t take on the weight of impressed innocence when he’s trying to fight to the surface of the searing, heavy antecedent regret that he wasn’t ready to find himself faced with, not yet.

Harvey rifles through a rack of clothes while Mike tries to shake his thoughts dry and then he’s holding a suit up to Mike’s frame and that’s better, he can play dress up, he can do that much.

Banished to the guest room that’s next to this one and as ludicrous as Harvey suggested, with strict instruction to show Harvey each of the four choices he’s been given before ‘they’ (by which Harvey means ‘he’) can decide and once he’s showered, Mike stands under the spray and thinks about everything except the fact that Harvey is doing the same, just three walls and a dozen feet away.

When he comes out into the hallway to show Harvey the third of his options, Garrison slips past him wearing what is apparently his kindergarten uniform - more or less a full miniature suit, tiny blazer and all. He holds his hand out for a high five as he passes and Mike obliges, but instantly regrets it.

  
“That color makes your skin look like Tim Riggins’ on a Monday morning.” Garrison states over his shoulder as he hops up onto Harvey’s bed so Harvey can knot the tie that’s fluttering around his little shoulders as he bounces.

  
Harvey, fully dressed, not a hair out of place, looks equally as perplexed as Mike.

  
“I don’t know what that means exactly, but he’s right. Try the navy.”

  
Twenty minutes, an argument about hair gel and age appropriate styling later and the three of them are miraculously ready to leave.

Mike and Garrison wait by the elevator while Harvey grabs his briefcase and even though he’s clearly dressed as ‘Harvey Specter - Boss’ now, the smile on his face when he crosses the room toward them is fond, soft and out of place on top of all those clean, crisp lines and his starched collar. When he pauses by the coffee table to pick up his phone Garrison looks up at Mike and says “All the times he’s said you were ‘impossible’, I think he meant something else.”

Mike doesn’t know whether to be offended or confused, so he just ruffles Garrison’s hair instead. He’s still a righteous little bundle of affronted fury when they step out onto the street where Ray is waiting for them.

  
“Morning Harvey, Morning Mike.” and Mike wonders at how he doesn’t question his being here, doesn’t even look like he wants to, just bends down to carry out some crazy complicated secret handshake with Garrison, who insists on sitting facing Harvey and Mike in the back of the car so he can chat with Ray through the division until they pull up at a school that looks more like a castle. Harvey had been checking his emails, mostly, but the half fond smile hasn’t left his face for a second and Mike is just as content to be a spectator in what appears to be an otherwise regular Specter family morning.

Garrison climbs out of the car placing a steadying hand on Harvey’s right knee and Mike’s left as he goes, and Harvey presses a kiss to his forehead while Garrison grimaces. He stands next to the car as he straightens out his sleeves with a practised focus that Mike sees on Harvey every day. Before he turns to leave he reaches across Harvey to bump his little fist against Mike’s again, and then salutes them both as he says “Texas forever” and bounces off up the front steps of his school.

Harvey and Mike watch until he disappears inside, and once he’s out of sight Mike pulls the door closed and they merge into the sea of traffic that’s going to take them to work.

  
“Texas forever?” Mike has to ask.

  
“No clue, but it means something to him.” And that’s enough explanation for them both.

 

 

 

____________________________________________________

 

 

 

  
Once they get to the office, they slide into an easy fit of everything they were and weren’t before with the extra added stitch of new knowledge setting them together just a little further from everyone else.

Harvey confirms with Donna that she has the afternoon off to pick Garrison up from school and hang out with him until Harvey gets home, all in front of Mike and Donna doesn’t say anything but narrows her eyes at him in that particular way of hers that clearly states “I don’t know what’s going on _yet_ but rest assured I will soon know more than you ever did about this.” But even Donna’s stink-eye isn’t enough to dampen Mike’s spirits this day.

And so their lives continue, with only a few minor changes to how they’d gone before.

Garrison is suddenly Mike’s biggest fan. And Donna isn’t far behind. Every morning Harvey is first instructed to give Garrison’s regards to Mike, as soon as he gets to the office Donna makes him check in with Mike to make sure they’re “on the same page” about the day’s events and every evening when he arrives home he is pressed to submit an oral report on how Mike is, did Mike say to tell Garrison hello, did Harvey see Mike much today, did Mike like the drawing Garrison did for him yesterday, is Mike still wearing the _friendship bracelet_ that Garrison made for him.

And what’s worse - it’s entirely mutual. Mike **is** still wearing the friendship bracelet, even though it looks ridiculous sliding down around his wrist below his cuff. It’s woven strands of red and white braided knots, “Lions colors” according to Garrison, and several people have asked about it in front of Harvey. On each and every occasion Mike has merely smiled and said “a friend” made it for him.

One day Harvey walks by Mike’s cubicle at lunch time to find him sitting hunched over his laptop from home, earbuds plugged in and he’s clearly distraught by whatever he’s looking at judging by his pained expression. He looks up when Harvey stops in front of his desk, and Harvey is distressed by the sheen of tears in Mike’s eyes, this must be something truly awful, he hopes nothing terrible has happened to Mike’s grandmother.

  
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just … Coach chose to start Voodoo instead of Seven and … he worked so hard to get where he is, he never asked for any of this and now it’s being taken away from him!” and Harvey hasn’t got a clue what he’s talking about until he leans over to look at the screen and sees … an episode of that football show his son insists on watching every single day, in a never ending repetitive cycle.

  
That afternoon when he’s calling home to check with Garrison’s childminder whether or not he needs to bring home dinner, Garrison asks if he can speak to Mike. Since he’s right beside him at the time, hovering next to his desk as usual, Harvey hands the phone over and has to sit through a ten minute one sided exchange of:

  
“Oh my god I _know_!”

  
“.......... and then when Landry tutors Tim!!!”

  
“That was my favorite part of that episode too!”

  
Etc.etc.etc.

  
That evening before they part ways out in front of the building, Mike stops him with a hand on his arm.

  
“Hey um .. I was just wondering … there’s this … uh .. exhibit on the world’s largest animals opening at the Museum of Natural History this weekend? And Garrison mentioned it and I was just wondering … it’s okay if you don’t think it’s a good idea, but I was wondering if I could maybe take him?”

  
And new found fan club aside, Harvey is taken aback by the idea that Mike willingly wants to spend his very very limited free time hanging out with Harvey’s kid.

  
“That depends. Am I invited too?”

  
Mike grins, delighted.

  
“Of course! It’s gonna be awesome, look at this ….”

  
And they end up talking at the town car for twenty minutes, Mike babbling endlessly and pointing out things in the museum brochure he at some point procured and has kept on his person ever since.

When Harvey gets home that night and asks Garrison if he’d like it if they went to the exhibit with Mike this weekend, the response is exactly as he suspected it might be.

  
“Duh, dude. That’s why I mentioned it. Your rookie is a soft sell. He has great taste in tv though.”

  
And now his five year old son is casually calling him ‘dude’. That’s just fantastic.

 

 

  
___________________________________________

 

 

 

Mike stands at Harvey’s door at 8am on Saturday morning and even though this was the time Garrison had decided and Harvey had agreed to, Mike is still half convinced they’re both fast asleep. It’s a delicate balance - endeavouring to knock loud enough to be heard but not so loud that it’ll wake anyone up either.

But the door is almost flung open off its hinges before he even gets the chance, and he’s left standing with one hand awkwardly raised, poised and useless. He quickly turns it into a wave when he looks down and sees Garrison standing before him and wonders for a second why he’s experiencing nervousness the likes of which he hasn’t known since he had to ask Trevor if he could take his sister to prom.

But then Garrison flings himself at Mike’s knees and he can’t do anything but fight to stay upright.

  
“MIKE.”

  
And Mike’s heart thuds a heavy little echo in his chest that reverberates a lump up into his throat and it’s a terrifying weight for just a second until it settles as warm, familiar hope.

Garrison looks taken aback by his own actions, and steps back awkwardly but not too far, not too fast. He tugs at the sleeves of his clothes, more self conscious than necessary and Mike has to wonder who dressed him today.

He’s wearing skinny jeans. Tiny black skinny jeans that fit him perfectly and bunch above his fire engine red high top sneakers. He’s wearing a miniature baseball style shirt just like the one Harvey had slept in when Mike spent the night, except Garrison’s has a white body and grey sleeves where Harvey’s had been blue. He has on a tiny backpack and a little _beanie_ and Mike was not built to withstand these levels of adorable, he will surely perish.

  
“Bro who _dressed_ you? Please tell me your dad bought you those clothes, you look **awesome**!”

  
Garrison grins and blushes and clutches at the straps of his backpack. Mike really hopes this building has a defibrillator.

  
“Donna takes me shopping because Dad says children that aren’t me give him migraines.”

  
And then he leans forward to whisper to Mike.

  
“He did that thing where he pinches the bridge of his nose when I picked this out to wear though, so I think I give him migraines sometimes too.”

  
Garrison doesn’t look particularly upset about this, he states it like straightforward fact but still.

  
“Dude, trust me. If your dad didn’t approve of something, you would know. Do you know how often he makes me change my clothes simply by looking at them a certain way? He might not understand the things you like, but he loves you and everything that’s important to you. You know how I know?”

  
“Nuh-uh?”

  
“Don’t tell him I told you this - but I walked into his office yesterday and found him reading a book on the rules of football. Plus he’s basically begged me to let him come with us today. He does the put upon act really well, but it is just that, kid. He is all about you. It’s kind of sickening how happy he is when he talks about you, trust me.”

  
And Garrison’s grin, already blinding, turns into shrieking laughter than Harvey appears behind him out of nowhere and scoops him up into the air, lifting Garrison over his head and folding him around his neck like a very fashionably dressed human towel.

  
“Good morning Mike.” He says somberly.

  
“I’m afraid it doesn’t look like we’re going to be able to go to the museum today, I can’t seem to find Garrison anywhere, he must have had other plans.”

  
“Aww that sucks. Well, I guess I’ll go back to my cold, lonely apartment then. But uh just a heads up, man? You seem to have a little something right there -” Mike leans in to tickle Garrison under the chin, and he squirms around Harvey’s shoulders, half laughing and half gasping out:

  
“Stop! Stop it!! I’m … I’m right HERE!”

  
Harvey unwinds him and drops him into Mike’s outstretched arms.

  
“Okay so I’m gonna head out now, see you Monday!” He pretends to turn to leave and Garrison shoots out an arm and pulls Harvey along after them. He grabs Garrison’s purple Ravens hoody and his sweatshirt off the kitchen counter, and they’re all laughing as they make their way downstairs, Garrison climbing up onto Mike’s shoulders with a helping hand from Harvey. He winds one arm loosely around Mike’s neck to hold on and points them onward with an outstretched arm.

  
“Onwards to the dinosaurs, noble steed! Show us the true meaning of haste!”

  
So now he’s Garrison’s horse and Harvey’s puppy. Mike can’t find it in himself to be anything other than totally okay with both.

 

 

  
________________________________________________

 

 

 

  
They walk to the museum because it’s only a couple of blocks from Harvey’s building and it’s a gorgeous day out, early morning summer sun somehow warmer because it’s the weekend and the day is theirs.

Garrison stays on Mike’s shoulders, chattering away about the exhibit they’re about to see, which is on the world’s largest dinosaurs, and features sauropods ranging from fifteen to one hundred and fifty feet long, he recites. He has both arms looped around Mike’s neck as he rattles off facts and figures like he’s the one with the eidetic memory and Harvey smiles looking between the two of them, like he sees the same thing in both places. Mike’s hands tighten around the heels of Garrison’s sneakers where they rest against his chest and he doesn’t know if he’s imagining it when it feels like Garrison holds on tighter, curls his little fists further into the neckline of Mike’s tshirt.

  
“I don’t know that dinosaurs are all that great, chief.” Harvey teases as they arrive at the Museum of Natural History.

  
“Yeah, I think I prefer my mammals with opposable thumbs.” Mike adds, lifting Garrison by the waist into Harvey’s outstretched arms so he can hop neatly down, reaching back up to grab Harvey’s hand as they navigate the lobby.

  
Mike keeps a watchful eye on him, just in case, and so he catches it when Garrison rolls his eyes at the pair of them.

  
“Dinosaurs were reptiles, not mammals. And for your information - the bambiraptor was able to touch the outer two of its three digits together in an opposable grip. Slightly greater than thumbs, I think you’ll find.”

  
Mike loves it when Garrison speaks like everyone he has to deal with is mildly irritating but ultimately infinitesimal opposing counsel in an easy trial. It’s amazing to watch, and seeing it turned on Harvey has Mike gasping in delight.

  
"Pwned!" He crows, ignoring Garrison's pointed remarks directed at him and both Garrison and Harvey look at him like he's speaking a foreign language. Which he is, to them. They have so much to learn.

  
They follow the thread of the exhibit along and around and even through the reconstructed fossils of huge dinosaurs, pausing here and there to read presentations, quibble over facts in the exhibitions brochure versus those permanently imprinted on Mike’s mind. Harvey and Mike take turns lifting Garrison so he can see better, so he can run his hands reverently over the surface of the bones. It turns out the kid is just as brilliant when he isn’t speaking, just as impossibly endearing in his awe and they wile away the morning with easy laughter and intelligent, articulate debate. Mike would be ashamed of the fact that he’s having the most enjoyable and entertaining conversation he can remember with a five year old and his father were it not for how Harvey laughs bright and loud, unforced and natural while he teases both Mike and Garrison about their geeking out. In return, they are pointedly and graciously silent when Harvey quietly insists they check out the interactive respiration model for the third time.

Harvey then insists on taking them to a restaurant nearby that he likes for lunch, promising it’s not so far that it’ll cut into their afternoon schedule - Mike is really excited about the exhibit that shows the effect the sheer size of the dinosaurs had on basic biological functions like their heartbeat and metabolism.

It’s a seriously extravagant place, but Garrison seems perfectly at home climbing up into a seat and insisting that Mike and Harvey sit on either side of him.

‘At home’ is proven to be an understatement when the waiter brings them their meals and Garrison’s consists of a bowl of alphabetti spaghetti big enough to swim in. He spells out the names of fossils he’s memorized this morning as he eats, and Mike is kind of surprised that Harvey is content to watch him dig through his lunch on the hunt for letters he needs to scoop up, but it seems to be routine with them and they spend an enjoyable lunch work through some complicated letter arrangements together.

When they’re done and heading back, Garrison pauses on the pavement and hesitantly reaches for both Harvey and Mike’s hands. Harvey looks down at him and follows the line of his arm up beyond his fingers clasped in Mike’s and gives Mike a half smile, which breaks wide open when Mike nods in return and they in unison gently lift Garrison’s weight off the ground, leading him in huge swinging steps that have him giggling in delight the whole way back to the museum.

 

 

  
______________________________________________

 

 

 

  
Standing in line for an exhibition that leads you inside a sixty foot long female mamenchisaurus, Garrison gets talking to a little girl that’s at the museum on a field trip. She’s in line with a whole group of other kids, but she stays a little behind and while all of the rest of her group are a jostling wave of loud, hyper children she has her head buried in a dinosaur encyclopedia about as big as she is.

She and Garrison are soon sharing the weight of the book between them and when they reach the mouth of the exhibit Harvey lets them head inside together because the walls of the dinosaur are transparent and he and Mike can sit and keep an eye on Garrison from nearby.

  
“That’s cute, not salting your kid’s game. Observant _and_ considerate.” Mike says.

  
“As usual, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But Mike can tell from how he says it without looking at him that Harvey knows exactly what he means. He is never going to get sick of seeing this slightly bashful, doting father version of Harvey.

  
They sit and watch Garrison and his new friend slowly make their way along every inch of the insides of a giant dinosaur while all the other kids rush through and then start a raucous game of tag down in the mamenchisaurus’ stomach cavity. Mike interrupts the comfortable, companionable silence to ask something that has been bugging him for a couple of days.

  
“Why do you call Garrison ‘chief’?”

  
Harvey turns to smile at the question.

  
“I am continually surprised by the details you assign priority to. It’s on the list of his approved nicknames. He responds to ‘chief’ or ‘officer’, but don’t call him ‘captain’ because that’s his term for me.”

  
“Cool, I’ll remember that.” And Harvey is still watching him.

  
“Will you? I thought your memory powers were tied to written word. Should I email you these things?”

  
Mike knows that Harvey is teasing him, but.

  
“Eidetic memory means I remember everything I read. But being human means I remember everything that matters to me.”

  
“And … Garrison matters to you?”

  
It shouldn’t be a question. But Mike knows that Harvey, sure in all things, has to double check when it comes to his son.

  
“Yes, Harvey. Yes. I’m not here as your associate, I’m here as Garrison’s friend ….... your and Garrison’s friend, if that’s okay.”

  
“Our friend.” Harvey says, like he’s testing the weight of the words together.

  
He nods then, seemingly satisfied and Mike knows it might get complicated, knows it definitely won’t be easy but he wants to be here every day. He likes that Harvey can boss him around like a merciless ruler from 9 - 5 Monday through Friday, and then insist on paying for his lunch and holding doors open for him on Saturday. He likes that they can do both and be both and have it lead them to days like today.

When they’re finished with the final part of the exhibition, an interactive excavation that leaves both Mike and Garrison declaring that they want to be archaeologists when they ‘grow up’, Garrison takes both of their hands again and a sweet old lady stops them by the exit to tell Garrison that he’s very lucky to have “daddies” who look so excited to take him to museums on their day off.

Mike freezes and Harvey looks at him before glancing down at Garrison, but no-one corrects her. Garrison politely agrees with her, and she wanders off, thoroughly charmed by what she assumed to be a lovely, well-mannered family.

As they walk down the steps, Garrison tugs on their hands and looks up at them both when he gets their attention.

  
“She thought you guys were together. And she was happy about it. Statistically speaking, women of her generation tend to find it very difficult to accept new social norms. It’s good to encourage positive attitudes when the underlying assumption doesn’t hurt anyone. Right?”

  
Harvey ruffles his hair and smiles.

  
“Very right, chief. You know what happens to kids who are actively concerned with changing the world when they’re five years old and can use words terms like ‘statistically speaking’? They get ice cream and make their fathers very, very proud.”

  
Garrison beams up at him and they set off, the three of them still hand in hand, in search of ice cream.

  
Mike only gets one scoop because he can’t spell the species of the last dinosaur they saw.

 

 

____________________________________________

 

 

 

The next week Garrison’s kindergarten castle has an unexpected plumbing disaster and Harvey has to take Garrison to work. It’s all very inconvenient and unfortunate except for how as soon as Harvey strides into work with Garrison half running to keep up with him, Donna and Mike suddenly and suspiciously find flimsy at best excuses to invade Harvey’s office.

They vie for Garrison’s affections without a hint of shame until Harvey decides he really does need to get a lot of work done today, and so tasks Donna with making sure that Garrison is both well looked after and fairly shared among his adoring fans.

Jessica insists on taking him for the morning, much to Garrison’s horror. When Mike offers to swing by her office with some client information she requested from Rachel, he walks in on them mid conversation, if you can call it that, and instantly understands Garrison’s hesitation.

  
“You wanna color, Gary? You can sit at my desk like a big boy!”

  
“No thank you, Ms Pearson. That sounds just lovely, but I actually have some algebra to work on at the moment.”

  
“Oh, okay. Sure thing, Gary. Call me ‘Jessica’, okay?”

  
“Yes ma’am.” Garrison drawls and he and Mike share a look at Jessica’s horrifying insistence on calling him ‘Gary’ and evidently speaking to him like he’s a walking baby. Poor Garrison. He busies himself with his textbooks though, and Mike is willing to wager that neither they nor algebra are on his kindergarten curriculum. Maybe not even what will be his middle school curriculum. Trust Harvey to raise such an adorable overachiever. This kid is going to break hearts and maybe take over the world, Mike thinks fondly. He drops the file on Jessica’s desk and high fives Garrison as he leaves. He doesn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that Jessica is watching with confused displeasure. She really tries, bless her.

After what must be a truly trying morning, Garrison narrowly avoids an even more dire lunch chaperon.

He’s back in Harvey’s office, this time with what looks like spreadsheet presentations laid out across Harvey’s floor so he can lie before them with a pencil between his teeth kicking his legs up in the air as he surveys his plans. For what exactly, Harvey doesn’t know that he wants to know.

Louis slithers into view just as Jessica happens to be passing by.

  
“So listen Harvey, how about I take the little tyke to get some yummy lunch? It’s no trouble.”

  
Harvey opens his mouth to tell Louis to get out of his office and if at all possible - his life, when Garrison shoots him a look and answers for himself.

  
“I’m sure that would be delightful, Mr Litt, but I have prior arrangements to keep. Maybe another time.”

  
Even Harvey is impressed, and he raised this child - finger paint on his favorite records, stubborn insistence on the superiority of Star Wars to Star Trek, spit up on his suits and all. Where Harvey would have met Louis’ suggestion with pure and open disdain, Garrison achieves the same end with polite but pointed manners and Louis is left gaping like a goldfish, with no choice but to accept the refusal and scurry back to wherever he came from, denied his chance to score cheap points with Jessica.

 _Nobody_ uses his kid and Harvey nods approvingly at Garrison, who just winks and returns his attention to his work.

As a reward, Harvey lets Garrison go to lunch with Mike and Rachel when they ask and Garrison seeks permission. He’s sure Mike has explained to Rachel who Garrison is, but is equally as confident that he hasn’t and won’t tell her anything else that Harvey has told him, so although Garrison isn’t familiar with her yet, his trust in Mike means he lets them leave together, Rachel helping Garrison into his jacket while Mike holds his backpack for him.

They ask if Harvey wants to come along, and when he says he has some calls to make, they offer to bring him back something. But he declines, and has Donna call in a lunch order for him instead.

He eats at his desk in silence, the ‘phone calls’ an excuse.

He wonders if Garrison or Mike are going to mention their trip to the museum last weekend. He wonders what Rachel might make of it, and Mike’s familiar ease with Harvey’s son.

He wonders what Garrison would say if a stranger on the street assumed that Mike and Rachel were his parents.

He wonders what Mike might say to someone assuming he and Rachel were together.

He thinks about them coming into his office together, to ask if **they** could take Garrison to lunch together.

He wonders if Mike and Rachel _are_ together.

But mostly, he spends his brief lunch break wondering why the thought leaves him without an appetite.

 

  
__________________________________

 

 

 

When they return, spilling into his office a three person tangle of loud smiles on flushed faces, they startle Harvey out of his introspection. He sends Mike and Rachel off with clipped, creative tasks and extends his lunch to play chess with Garrison for half an hour.

  
“How was lunch, kiddo?”

  
“Fun! Rachel’s really funny. She’s so mean to Mike.”

  
“Oh, you like her?”

  
Garrison looks up sharply, tilts his head while he considers the question like he knows there’s a certain way he’s supposed to answer but can’t figure out why or what that is.

  
“Yes? She’s really very smart and she doesn’t speak to me like I’m not.”

  
“Is that why you like Mike, too?”

  
They haven’t talked about this yet. Haven’t really explicitly discussed the Mike situation because Harvey wasn’t sure before that it was a situation, doesn’t know now whether it will ever be a situation. But regardless of how deeply involved he does or doesn’t want to be, it looks like Mike’s going to be part of their life together for a really long time.

  
“Mike’s smarter than Rachel. He’s smarter than Jessica too. He doesn’t realize it, but he might even be as smart as you are. He underestimates himself a lot, but that’s okay. He’s got you.”

  
“He’s got me?”

  
Garrison looks up.

  
“To make him realize he’s brilliant. To show him how.”

  
“I think you put a little too much faith in me, chief. I’m just his boss.”

  
“No you’re not, you’re Harvey Specter.”

  
And Harvey doesn’t know what he did to deserve a kid like Garrison, but he’s constantly thankful. At least until he beats him at two games in a row. Then he’s mostly too busy protesting that he _let_ Garrison win. Which he didn’t. His son is gonna rule the world, he thinks.

Donna magically managed to finish all of her work for the day by 2pm, so she takes Garrison off Harvey’s hands for a couple of hours. He meets with a few clients, reviews some of Mike’s work on their cases and then it’s 5pm and time to go home.

Except when Harvey steps out of his office, they’re not at Donna’s desk. He’s not worried - besides himself Donna is the person he trusts most with Garrison - but he’s feeling inexplicably clingy today, wants to keep Garrison close, so he goes to find them.

And find them he does.

Donna has taken her laptop and headset and somehow managed to fit an extra chair into Mike’s cubicle, is working away right next to him while he works at his own computer, Garrison sitting in his lap listening to one of his earbuds, watching him work. As Harvey watches, Garrison points out something on the screen and Mike squints at it, then nods and taps away at the keyboard for a second until Garrison gives him a thumbs up.

Harvey has had five years to grow accustomed to the impossible levels of capable, confident cuteness that Garrison reaches every day of his life, but this is kind of too much, even for him.

He stands there and just watches them together until Donna looks over and catches him staring.

  
“Oh hey Harvey. Garrison was getting antsy for his b-f-f so we’re slumming it for a while. You were on the phone so I was just emailing you to say where we’d gone.”

  
“That’s okay. I thought you’d finished your work for the afternoon?”

  
“I have. I’m making a head start on next week’s schedule. Your child is very low maintenance. Particularly when he has Mike to keep him mesmerized.”

  
And Mike blushes at that, but shoots Donna a look.

  
“You’re just jealous that we beat you at ‘words with friends’.”

  
Harvey has no idea what that is, but Donna looks apoplectic.

  
“It was two against one, children. And I let you win because I felt sorry for the pair of you.”

  
Mike and Garrison nod solemnly, beam smug grins that Harvey knows will haunt Donna to her dying day.

  
“Don’t poke the bear, guys. I won’t help you when she bites. In fact, we’d better get out of here before she smells your fear.”

  
“That really does sound like the best thing to do, Harvey, let’s go.” Mike says eagerly.

  
“Yeah right, rookie. You’d better not leave here for at least another three hours if you know what’s good for you.” Harvey laughs and both Mike and Garrison moan “Awwwwww!”.

  
They head home after a long day, but not until after Garrison has insisted that they go get Mike some dinner and bring it back to the office for him.

He’s naturally ecstatic about and grateful for the pizza and milkshake they bring him, because of course Garrison knows all of his favorite foods and has them memorized.

He insists on walking them back out to the elevators and watching the doors slide shut with Mike on the other side, framed by pitch black offices and dark corridors lit by nothing but the dim glow of computer screens leaves Harvey’s chest tight. Saying goodbye to him once a day has been getting increasingly difficult, but twice is almost unbearable.

Garrison is exhausted from the excitement of the day and dozes off in the car on the way home. Harvey carries him up to bed and for a long time after he tucks him in under the covers, he sits on the bed and watches his son sleep.

 

 

  
________________________________________

 

 

 

And time goes by. Mike still spends his days irritating Harvey, spilling his feelings all over the place, asking after Garrison and generally inadvertently being amazing. Harvey scolds him, encourages him, does his best to guide him without making it too obvious, and struggles with the beginnings of what he imagines must be his own feelings.

One evening as he and Mike are leaving together for once, Harvey having stayed late, Mike asks what his plans for the rest of the night are, and Harvey answers that he is graciously permitting Garrison to teach him about sports while they watch a football game. Not that Harvey knows who is playing, but Mike helpfully supplies that the Baltimore Ravens, Garrison’s favorite team, are playing the Steelers tonight and that it’s a pretty serious game. He seems to know a bit about football, so -

  
“Would you maybe like to come over and watch with us? You probably already have plans but -”

  
“No! I don’t! I’d love to!”

  
And they don’t realize it yet, but they’re both relieved to finally have an excuse to spend time with one another. They don’t pick up on it, but every time one of them has to look away to hide the smile they can’t keep off their face any longer on the ride home, the other is usually doing the same. They aren’t there to see it, but Ray is shaking his head and laughing softly to himself as he pulls away from the curb.

Garrison is thrilled to see Mike and the pair of them are left responsible for ordering Chinese while Harvey showers and changes.

They’re sitting on the couch watching the pre-game commentary when he reappears, wearing sweat pants and a Harvard shirt that must be from his college days because it’s threadbare and worn and tight across his shoulders, neckline stretched loose around his throat. Mike’s mouth goes dry. Harvey is toweling off his hair with one hand, arm stretched up over his head and the motion makes his shirt ride up over his waist, makes the solid, considerable stretches of muscle around his upper arm bunch and splay under his skin as he rubs at his wet hair.

There is a knock at the door and Mike bolts for it. He pays for their dinner tonight and when Harvey says thank you Mike has to spend the next ten minutes explaining the reference ‘independent woman’ and it’s relevance while they dish out the food and fight over dumplings. By the time they’re all more well versed in the life and times of Destiny’s Child than any of them need to be, the game is starting.

They settle in with their plates and spend a high energy, instruction packed two hours watching the Ravens ultimately beat the Steelers 17 - 14. Garrison would be ecstatic were it not for the fact that between shouting at the screen and reeling off the rules to Harvey, he’d worn himself out somewhere in the third quarter and was fast asleep curled up in the armchair before the game wrapped up. Harvey and Mike, sitting side by side on the couch, talk quietly during the final quarter, filling the heavy silence with their low, careful voices to leave no room for the charged pull both feel and neither know to admit.

Once it’s over, Harvey carries Garrison off to bed and Mike starts gathering up plates and bringing them through to the kitchen. He’s stacking the dishwasher when Harvey comes in.

  
“You don’t have to do that.”

  
“I know.”

  
“Thank you for dinner.”

  
“You already said that.”

  
“I …. I know I did. Are you … did I do something wrong?”

  
Harvey is confused by how Mike has just shut down, all of a sudden. Was five minutes ago content to let their thighs press together, warm and solid contact as they sat close, and stands before him now unwilling to meet his eye.

  
“No, no. No! I .. it’s me. I just … tonight was awesome. This was .. really nice.”

  
“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

  
Harvey doesn’t get it.

  
“You’re just …. Garrison is _amazing_ and … you’re amazing, and … you’re my boss and Garrison is your son and I’m … sometimes I forget to not let myself want things that I can’t have.”

  
Mike says it in stunted little rushes of words that drag Harvey under like waves.

  
“What do you … Mike … you … you -” Harvey hasn’t got the capacity to form sensible sentences or listen to rational thought.

  
He crosses the kitchen floor and takes a plate out of Mike’s hands and sets it on the counter between them and then he steps back in and takes Mike’s face in his hands and kisses him like he’s wanted to for weeks now, didn’t know to recognize for months. He slides one hand to the back of Mike’s neck and cups his jaw with the other, lets himself have the roaring quiet of their lips pressed together. Everything is suspended in the silence until Mike groans and opens his mouth under Harvey’s, fists his hands in the worn material of his tshirt and drags him in, licks into his mouth and they’re lost to it. They stand in Harvey’s kitchen, Mike still in his rumpled work clothes, Harvey in his dressed down maddening state, both utterly wrecked by the touch of their tongues, their hands on one another’s skin, the brilliant intimacy they both feel from just kissing one another, finally, finally.

By the time they break apart, they’re both gasping quietly for breath, dragging their eyes open to look at one another, stunned in silence.

Silence that is quickly filled with the shuffle of slippered feet on carpet, and Garrison comes into view, yawning widely.

  
“Can I have a glass of water?”

  
Harvey clears his throat.

  
“Yeah …. yes, of course.”

  
“I .. uh … I’d better go. Early morning tomorrow.” Mike says, and Harvey wants to stop him, wants to take him in his arms and take him to his bed and never have him leave. But it’s too much, too soon, and of course he should go now, before Harvey can’t let him.

  
Harvey hands Garrison his glass of water and they walk Mike to the door, they say their ‘goodnight’s and after Mike straightens up after bending to hug Garrison goodbye, he steps forward into Harvey’s space and curls his hands back into the wrinkled sides of Harvey’s tshirt and hugs him goodbye too. Harvey’s hands go to the small of Mike’s back and hold him close and he hears Mike’s breath hitch where his mouth rests beside Harvey’s ear and his hands tighten, fist in Mike’s jacket until his nails dig into his palms. And then Mike steps away, and they watch him leave.

Harvey forgets to look away even after Mike has disappeared from sight and Garrison giggles sleepily at his side.

  
“Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.” He says, cryptically.

  
And then he punches Harvey softly in the knee and turns to wander back to bed.

 

 

 

________________________________________________

 

 

 

  
Mike doesn’t sleep that night. He goes home to his dark apartment and takes off the cheap, rumpled suit that no longer holds the heat of Harvey’s hands, and when he slides in between cold sheets sleep never comes. He lies awake and stares at the cracks in his ceiling and thinks of all the reasons why what happened tonight was an awful mistake, the thousands of ways in which this could wreck everything that’s good in his life, all of the things that he stumbled upon by accident and has spent the months since fighting to hold on to. And they’re logical considerations, rational and plausible ends to what he and Harvey set in motion. But try as he might to pile them high, guilt soaked sandbag weights to sink his hope, he shakes them loose as quickly as they occur to him.

Kissing Harvey, knowing that then and there he wanted Mike exactly as Mike wanted him …. in that moment he had fit to his skin, his hands on Harvey’s, like it was a place he’d been waiting his whole life to take.

He can’t help but _be_ here, in this, however it turns out. Once they’re all together, he thinks, he and Harvey and Garrison, they’ll find a way to make it work.

So he gets out of bed at 5am and showers and shaves, tries and fails to keep the smile from his face as he battles through rush hour traffic to get to work.

He sits at his desk and rests under the wave of words that he sets to flow over him, one layer of his mind as always wholly occupied by thoughts of Harvey as he works.

And then it’s 11am, and he has to meet Harvey by the elevators so they can travel together to court. And he has to look at his phone, check emails that don’t matter, read texts that don’t make sense, because he can’t watch Harvey walk toward him, entire oceans of corridor between them.

Polished shoes appear before his, and Mike holds his breath, tells himself that whatever he sees on Harvey’s face when he looks up into it, he can handle. He can accept.

He follows the line of Harvey’s legs to the belt at his waist, the jacket buttoned tight against the stretch of waist that Mike had touched with his fingertips, hushed and reverent last night. Then the crisp blue of Harvey’s shirt, the navy silk of his tie, the tanned, sure line of his throat, and his face. His half smiling face, with one corner of his mouth pulled tight like the hopeful little grin might escape to cover his face. Eyes warm and waiting, nervous but happy and unable to keep that secret.

Mike’s heart clenches in his chest, and he’s grinning openly at Harvey, has never been any good at concealing his feelings, doesn’t realize it but has been grinning ever since he saw the toes of Harvey’s shoes perfectly symmetrically aligned with his own.

  
“You ready?” Harvey asks, and the question is vast, universal.

  
“Yeah,” Mike says, and they can’t stop looking at one another, can’t see anything else.

  
“I am.”

  
And Harvey’s hand, feather light but warm through two layers as he lays the guiding touch at Mike’s back, feels like “Me too.”

  
They win their case, and they stop to get coffee, and they head back to the office and mock Louis when they run into him and everything is normal, just like all of the days that have gone before.

Except in between insults and backhanded compliments, there are now long pauses, charged glances and excuse upon excuse upon excuse to touch one another in discreet little ways that leave them hot all over, flushed and happy.

They eat a working lunch together in Harvey’s office, sitting at a right angle to one another at his desk, and every few minutes Mike knocks his feet against Harvey’s, a hidden little touch to say ‘you’re here, and I’m right next to you.’ They eat in silence, sharing a file between them but neither of them could tell you what it’s about or what the sheets of paper they pass back and forth actually say, because they’re too busy staring at one another, looking down at their food only when it becomes unbearably ridiculous and they have to laugh at themselves and this day.

When they’re finished eating and Mike has to go back to his cubicle to get some real work done, Harvey presses his knee against Mike’s and says “Do you want to come over later? Garrison would love to see you.”

Mike smiles.

  
“Garrison would love to see me? Just Garrison?”

  
“Garrison amongst other people.”

  
“Well, it just so happens that I kind of miss Garrison already.”

  
“Just Garrison?”

  
“Just Garrison. Although … there’s this other dude that’s always at his place? Tall guy, kind of overdressed, ridiculously good looking? Like so attractive it’s kind of almost obnoxious? I guess I’ve grown pretty fond of him too.”

  
“You’re in luck, I have it on good authority he’s going to be around later. He's been asking after the impossibly hot blonde that keeps following me home.”

  
And it takes some serious effort for Mike to turn his smile into the put upon, frazzled frown of your average associate worker bee as he moves to leave. Harvey calls after him just before he does, and steps up behind him so that when Mike turns, they’re standing close together, thankfully hidden from view by Harvey’s strategically placed record shelves.

  
“I thought maybe we could take Garrison to the park tomorrow? So … if you wanted, you could stay over again?”

  
And it settles between them, a question and a chance, an effort Harvey doesn’t have to make, but does anyway, for Mike.

  
“I’d really like that.”

  
Harvey steps in and presses his mouth quickly to Mike’s, just a soft touch of lips and a second of them sharing space and then he’s gone, back safe behind his desk so he can’t stop Mike from leaving.

That afternoon, they busy themselves with work and phone calls and distractions, anything to take up every possible second of their time, make the hours go faster till they can see another again, and Harvey doesn’t notice at first that he has a text message.

From: Mike  
I miss you. You’re fifty feet away. This is insane.

Harvey has to agree because for some reason the thought of Mike sitting somewhere nearby, thinking about Harvey and typing this message into his phone … missing him when they had lunch together two hours ago and are going home together one … it really is insane. And Harvey’s right there with him.

At 6pm Harvey makes time for one personal call.

  
“Hey kiddo. Listen, we’re gonna be a little late tonight, but I’ll have Donna order us some pizza to bring back, so don’t eat without us, okay?”

  
“Sure thing, captain. Remind her that Mike likes the place a block over best, okay?”

  
Harvey agrees and they say goodbye.

  
It’s not until he’s leaving his office and heading down to grab Mike that he realizes he didn’t tell Garrison who he was referring to in the first place.

Garrison doesn’t react to their arriving back together as anything at all out of the ordinary, just hugs them both around the knees to say hello and then dive bombs onto the couch, already in his pyjamas (Squirtle, this time, and Harvey openly mocks Mike for knowing the difference) and once Harvey has lent Mike some sweatpants and a tshirt and they’re both comfortable for the night, they settle in to watch some tv while they eat dinner.

Garrison chooses a Friday Night Lights dvd, naturally, and both Mike and Garrison praise Harvey when he gets some of the terms and strategies right without either of them having to help him. He insists it’s only because ‘that Coach Taylor guy’ is ‘made of strong stuff’ and reminds him of himself, if only he’d wear better clothes and burn every baseball cap he owns.

Garrison goes to bed after two episodes, and after tucking him in together Mike and Harvey return to the living room and spend the third episode paying very strict attention to the screen and not noticing at all that they keep totally accidentally scooting closer to one another on the couch. But during the opening credits of the last episode, the theme song swells to its poignant crescendo and Harvey can’t do this anymore, he turns to look at Mike and finds Mike already leaning in, and then they laugh at one another and Mike is climbing into Harvey’s lap with Harvey’s helping hands and they’re making out like teenagers, Mike pressing Harvey down into the cushions so he can wind his arms around his neck and kiss him with an urgency that’s been building between them all afternoon. Harvey’s hands ruck Mike’s shirt up over his waist and slide warm and a little rough up over Mike’s ribs, but they’re content to just sit together and lose an hour to the press of their lips, learn the slide of their tongues and the hushed, content sounds each makes. Harvey is only slightly offended when Mike yawns against his mouth.

  
“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t really sleep last night.”

  
And now that he mentions it, Mike looks wrecked. Exhausted, but eyes bright and his mouth flushed and full. Harvey could sleep right here like this, with Mike pressed in against him and warm under his hands. But they have forever to do this.

  
“Come on, bed.”

  
And they turn off the tv and flip the light switches through the kitchen and living room as they pass. Mike pauses by the guest room, hand outstretched toward the handle of the door and Harvey wraps his fingers around his wrist and pulls him into his bedroom instead, pushing him down onto the bed when he follows the hold without hesitation.

  
“Sleep here tonight. Just sleep.” He clarifies.

  
Mike smiles and pulls him down to meet his mouth, kisses him with as much sleepy enthusiasm as he can muster.

They brush their teeth standing next to one another at the sink, Mike grinning at Harvey around the spare toothbrush he’d given him.

They crawl under the covers together and Harvey reaches over Mike to switch out the lamp. He lies down spooned up behind Mike and lets his arm drape around his waist over the covers.

But Mike laces their fingers together and pulls the duvet out from underneath their hands, curls up in the bracket of Harvey’s body with their intertwined hands held to his chest instead.

  
Harvey smiles against the back of Mike’s neck and they fall asleep like that.

Mike wakes up blinking into dull early morning light and it takes him a second to figure out where he is, but when he rolls over onto his side he comes face to face with Harvey, who is lying next to him and has apparently been watching him sleep. At least now he knows where Garrison gets it from.

He stretches his arms over his head and then curls up to burrow his face in against Harvey’s chest, closing his eyes again and murmuring “Morning.”

  
“Good morning!” Garrison chirps from the foot of the bed, and both he and Harvey bolt upright to look down at him, but he’s already clambering up and walking across the mattress to push Mike over a little and plop down onto the pillows in between them.

Harvey loops an arm around him, but Garrison is half sitting on both of them, so his arm stretches to rest around Mike’s shoulders.

They stay like that for a minute, Harvey and Mike lying in bed together and Garrison sitting indian style between them.

  
“So …...” Garrison breaks the silence, and Mike and Harvey both steel themselves for an inquisition, taking a deep breath.

  
“Can we have waffles for breakfast?”

  
There is silence for a long moment, and then Garrison looks between the two of them, clearly only concerned about his morning meal, and Mike turns his face and laughs quietly into Garrison’s shoulder. Harvey answers. 

  
“Uh .. sure, chief. Wanna go watch cartoons till they’re ready?”

  
And evidently Garrison does, because he jumps up and runs out of the room, shouting over his shoulder that he wants square waffles, not round.

  
Harvey just stares after him for a moment, and then shakes his head and lies back down, keeping Mike close with the arm still around his shoulders.

  
“We’re going to have to sit him down and talk about this, you know.” Harvey says, and Mike nods where his head is pillowed on Harvey’s chest.

  
“If … if this is a ‘this’. If it’s …. if this is where you want to be.” He amends, cautious and Mike tilts his head back to look at him upside down, presses a kiss underneath Harvey’s chin.

  
“I’m exactly where I want to be,” Mike says.

  
“And where is that?” Harvey asks.

  
“Where you and Garrison are. And wherever I’m with you.”

 

 

 

 

 

  
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End file.
